


Daybreak

by skorpsion



Category: DragonFable (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22119892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skorpsion/pseuds/skorpsion
Summary: A light in the darkness.
Kudos: 2





	Daybreak

Dragon was a lot of things. Former mage, former Hero of Falconreach, former Soulweaver. He really liked to think that he’d experienced most of what life had to offer at this point: really tasty fresh-baked bread, giant world-eating dragons, lots of different fish in Falconreach Bay, and at least a few other interesting things. He liked to think that there weren't many things that could surprise him anymore.

Even this was at least a little familiar, a half circle of Clawkin warriors surrounding him, his back to a tree. They stared him down with steely eyes, wickedly sharp claws gleaming in the half-light that filtered down through the forest cover. Trees towered above the small clearing they were in, and in the shade, he could see that their pelts were the perfect camouflage against the varied forest undergrowth. He didn't know much about them as a species, but he knew that many of them spent their whole lives in the woods, save for the wanderers that roamed the countryside. Without a doubt, they knew the forest from the inside out, down to every last leaf. He was a stranger, and this was Clawkin turf, outnumbered 4-to-1 by trained warriors.

In short, Dragon was at a disadvantage in almost every possible way. If anything, though, it put a smile on his face.

"Finally came out, huh? I thought you were about to leave me hanging." He taunted, raising one hand in the air. The air crackled with silent lightning, his weapon materializing in his hand before he hoisted it up to rest on his shoulder. "Was wondering how many of you I had to beat up to get a decent fight here."

They didn't respond to him, but they collectively seemed to prickle at his words. It wasn't the kind of prickle like he'd personally wronged them, but he didn't expect all the Clawkin to personally know each other or go out of their way to claim vengeance against him. It was still a welcome reaction from the seemingly stoic warriors. They were in a rigid formation, one that was enough to box him in at all angles. He wasn't an expert, but these Clawkin seemed disciplined and prepared, so maybe they'd be an actual challenge.

He eyed their sharpened claws. Each one of them had a small shield strapped to one arm, a simple yet sturdy-looking piece of round wood. Their stance was unflinching, looking him on without any fear in their eyes. Best of all, they were studying him right back with calculating gazes, definitely a step up from the random animals who'd blindy charge at him. Maybe they even intentionally sought him out. That would make a nice change, wouldn’t it?

Either way, there was no doubt about it now, they were definitely more prepared than the random wanderers around the woods. His smile only grew wider.

The wanderers on the road were pretty disappointing, all things considered, but these guys? They were the real deal, and he was itching to get started.

This wasn't any ordinary fight, this was shaping up to being actually _fun_.

"Maybe you'll put up a better fight than your friends. They didn't really put the 'claw' in 'Clawkin,' y'know?"

If they were affected by his taunt, they didn't show it. Instead, they shared a look with each other.

"Vah'gua? Kah'Via lahg tu'aiv." One of them snapped back at him, a retort that was completely incomprehensible.

Another replied, without taking its eyes off Dragon for even a moment, "Sqa, sqa, sqa. Gvuie."

"Bah'vhaqu!" One of them barked back a phrase in its own language at him, earning chitters of agreement from the others. It pointed one paw at him, claws splayed out. "Vah Gua'Kia ahn elka'kah."

Oh well, he couldn't expect them to speak Common. Their chittering, guttural language was entirely incomprehensible to him, but he at least knew an accusation when he heard one.

"That's me, Dragon!" He pointed at himself with his thumb, and gave a big, toothy smile. "Don't worry, no need to introduce yourselves. I know your names already…"

With one smooth movement, he lifted his weapon up like it was lighter than air, pointing it directly at them. The jagged edges of his soulclaw fizzled into existence, casting a ghostly cyan light across the battlefield. The Clawkin collectively tensed up before his eyes, bristling like hounds ready for the hunt.

Dragon was a lot of things, but he wasn't merciful.

"You're dead meat."

They didn't rise to the challenge, or even return with their own. Without a single word uttered, not even one in their barbaric tongue, they made the first move. They moved as one, faster than he could follow with his eyes, and then there was nothing but him and the trees around him. They were all gone within an instant, scattered through the forest. He only saw mustard-yellow blurs before they disappeared into the treetops or behind the bushes, and it was just Dragon holding his weapon in the forest, pointing it at nothing but trees.

There were a few moments of utter silence, punctuated only by the calls of far-off animals.

He frowned, and was about to say, "Is that it?" in his most mocking tone, when he heard something. More felt that really heard, it was barely more than a whisper, a soft susurrus that anyone else would write off as leaves or wind. If he were any less alert, any less aware of his own pulse thumping in his chest with the thrill of battle, he would have turned around and simply left the forest. Instead, he whipped around and held out the flat of his blade like a shield, both hands bracing it.

If he'd been a moment slower, he'd have died. It was just in time for him to hear the sound of claws clattering against his weapon, a sharp and clear sound that rang through his bones. The sheer force of impact almost made him stagger back, but he clenched his jaw and recovered with a sweeping jab of his soulclaw. Cyan light shot forward, reflected in his foe's eyes.

The Clawkin in front of him deflected his blow with its shield, jolting his arm to the side and forcing him to pull back. A jagged cyan line seared itself into the wood where his claw made contact, even though it was only for a split second. Dragon saw surprise in its eyes for barely a second, before it resolved back into determination.

“Kah’vaqu!” It exclaimed, leaping backwards and into the bushes. The moment it did, it completely disappeared, melting into the shadows of forest undergrowth. He didn't know what that meant, either, which only put him even more on edge.

It didn't give him time to think on the nature of Clawkin linguistics, though. He only had a moment to breathe, before another Clawkin jumped down from a tree branch above, launching a spinning kick downwards at him. From his angle, it was a deadly, whirling mass of fur and wicked sharp claws launched straight for his head.

Dragon barely registered the sight before he dove out of the way. It was a close call, close enough to see gleaming, sharp claws pass right through where his head had been a moment ago, inches away from his face. He was close enough to see a glint in its eyes and its fangs bared smugly at him as it landed in a four-legged crouch on the forest floor.

There was only the slightest hint of a warning, the soft crunch of leaves under padded feet, before one clawed hand shot out from the darkness and grabbed his ankle, toppling him over and pulling him backwards. At the same time, the first Clawkin leapt at him, claws spread and ready to rake his face off. In the split second as he fell, he could see the light of his own soulclaw reflected off the Clawkin's eyes and claws.

No matter what he did, this was going to hurt. That was fine by him.

He swung his weapon backward, using his momentum to twist in the Clawkin's grip and break free, awkwardly rolling to the side. It was less of a fantastic maneuver than he hoped for, more like an ungainly thump to the ground. He caught a claw to the cheek, lighting up a thin line of pain along his face, and couldn't quite break his fall. The forest floor hit him even harder than the Clawkin did, sending a jolt through all his bones. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them both leap back, just out of stabbing range from his soulclaw.

Dragon barely had time to get to his feet, before the two Clawkin regrouped and were facing him down again.

Blood welling up from the wound on his cheek, he had just a moment to consider his situation. They'd drawn first blood, and could get the jump on him at any time. He didn't even know what they were saying when calling out to each other, so it wasn't like he could exploit their strategies. It was a hopeless fight in almost every way, but he didn't waste his time thinking about that. Instead, he took harsh breaths and tensed, readying himself for the next ambush.

"Gu'gah!" The first one yelled, and he _definitely_ knew what that one meant. He whipped around, and there were two Clawkin right behind him, claws already sweeping wide haymakers at him in synchrony.

His soulclaw came up in an uppercut, and just like he expected, the two of them simultaneously jumped back, turning on a dime and getting some distance between them. Dragon smirked. Four on one? He liked those odds.

The Clawkin prowled around him in a slow circle. Even after a few long, tense moment only punctuated by the sound of his own harsh breathing, they didn’t move to attack.

That was the thing about ambush hunters, they usually liked to have the jump on someone, and always wanted the element of surprise. Dragon had seen it in the wanderers on the road, how they sometimes turned tail and ran if he ever even looked at them. It was a little disheartening to see those same patterns of thought in the warriors, when they were supposedly more trained. He'd take any good fight he could get, though.

The important lesson learned was that they liked to take their foes by surprise. Knowing that, Dragon did the only logical thing: he took the initiative.

Just as a Clawkin passed in front of him, barely feet away, he lunged forward, soulclaw blazing a cyan streak through the air.

Of course, it dodged his blow, rolling away to the side. He was fine with that, though, and as he pivoted around, he saw their broken formation. The three in the back vanished into the trees in a scramble, his sudden act enough to spook them. Typical.

The remaining Clawkin bared its teeth at him, apparently intent on fighting him one-on-one. He returned the look in kind.

The single Clawkin didn't pace around him, or wait for an ambush. His only warning was a soft sound, twigs snapping below one clawed foot, before it was on him in a flash, clearing the distance in the span of a heartbeat.

He only had the time to bring up the broad side of his blade to block, just fast enough to stop the Clawkin from stabbing his kidneys out. As clawed fist met sword, he launched a quick jab toward the Clawkin's ribs in turn. It dove to the side, breaking away from his sword, before leaping up into an uppercut. Dragon leapt backward, barely avoiding a grisly fate.

It barely gave him room to breathe before it pounced again to close the gap, but this time, Dragon didn't block. Instead, he braced himself and lunged forward in his own counterattack, extending his arm in his own soulclaw-edged punch, one that was stopped in its tracks by the Clawkin grabbing him by the inner arm, claws screeching and skittering over metal. With his other hand, he blocked the Clawkin's open-handed strike, fist meeting it right in the middle and physically stopping it from tearing his face off.

The two fighters grappled for several long moments, soulclaw inches away from the Clawkin’s face and its actual claws held back only by Dragon’s sword arm. He could see the determination in its eyes and muscles bulging in strain beneath fur, but its limbs shook even while it gripped his arm ever tighter, claws trying to pierce through the metal gauntlet. Blocking it wasn't easy either, his sword at too awkward of an angle to use.

His soulclaw slipped just an inch closer, the Clawkin's grip too weak on his slick metal and leather bracer.

"Vah'qua," it spat. "Bahal Gua'Kia ngamah!"

He had no idea what that meant, but the Clawkin shifted its stance, wide and low to the ground, rotating its grip. It slowly pushed back against him, and although it couldn't completely overpower him, it wasn't trembling anymore.

The stance meant that even if Dragon was normally stronger, it could still use its whole body's strength against him. He could break it if he had a free hand, but they were both trying to block the other's attack. They were at an impasse, it seemed.

… Well, it just seemed that way. Dragon gave it a devious smirk, then kneed it in the shin. The low stance acted against it, and it practically fell over, grip broken. Dragon swung his sword downward, but it turned its fall into a roll, easily dodging his blow.

They started fighting for real, the Clawkin swinging wide with its claws and Dragon using short jabs and conservative blocks.

No ambushes or fancy spells, just a deadly brawl. There was no doubt about it now, this Clawkin was trying to _kill_.

Dragon couldn't be too careful, even though his opponent was technically weaponless. He ducked under a sweeping haymaker, and in the same movement, swung at the Clawkin with his sword. It dodged his blow with sinuous ease, only for his soulclaw to graze its side, leaving a long, bloody wound. The blow didn’t even faze it, as it lunged forward once more in a charge that Dragon easily dodged.

"Too slow!" Dragon taunted, leaning away from a clumsy swipe. He wasn't even sure if it could understand him, but it only bared its teeth in response and swung wide at his head. He responded by ducking and sweeping his sword low, biting deep into its leg before it jumped back and broke away.

The two fighters sized each other up, both taking the chance to catch their breath. Dragon eyed his opponent with a wary gaze, grip still tight on his weapon and ready to respond to any sudden movement.

They were both a little worse for wear, but he was better off than the sad state of the Clawkin. It was bleeding from a near dozen gashes, staining its fur and dripping down to the forest floor. The sight made him feel better about the aching soreness he felt in his muscles. Protected by layers of armour, Dragon only had bruises and a cut on his cheek, blood tacky and dry against his face.

"Getting tired?" He asked, cocky grin back on his face. "You're always free to take a dirt nap."

This time, he knew that it understood _something_. Even if it didn't actually understand the words, it seemed like it could read something from his tone or context. Either way, anger gleamed in its eyes when it snarled back, "Gah kua vu!"

It took a deliberate step toward him, ready to continue their battle. Dragon tightened his grip and tensed. It took another step, and then almost collapsed, going down on one knee and grabbing the still-bleeding wound in its calf. It still looked upwards with a defiant gaze, too injured to walk. Its eyes were steely, as if it was still ready to fight, even though it was realistically down for the count.

He didn't even bother with the niceties or banter this time. This was too good. Dragon readied his blade, smile still on his face as he swung downward.

His only warning was the sound of leaves rustling, before a bundle of fur and corded muscle pounced out from the trees, knocking him backwards before using him like a springboard, jumping off and away from his chest. Dragon staggered back at the blow, and then scowled at the sight in front of him.

Another Clawkin had dropped down from the trees, currently helping its friend get back to its feet. It let the injured one lean against it for support, each slinging one arm over the other's shoulder. They looked up in synchrony, two determined expressions meeting him and taking a step forward, ready to maul him together as a team.

So much for honourable single combat after all. Dragon mentally steadied himself, putting one foot back and readying his weapons.

It was actually a good thing Clawkin relied on their claws, rather than developing their own weapons. For one, it meant that their moves were always telegraphed and obvious to the trained eye. For another, they were in melee range.

It was a shame he couldn't see the looks on their faces when he _spun_ , weapon deflecting their claws with a screech and soulclaw forming a deadly arc. It was only for a second or two at most, but the results were immediate. The two Clawkin staggered back, mustard yellow fur stained by fresh blood that leaked from the new cuts on their chests. They had leapt backwards once again, but were both held back by the first Clawkin's leg wound. The two started to retreat into the trees together, slowly and dripping a red trail behind them. For all the trouble the second one went through, its only reward for trying to help its friend was a soulclaw to the chest, a literal bleeding heart. The irony made him want to laugh.

Instead, he whipped around to see the another two Clawkin already at a safe distance at the other side of the clearing. They were already getting ready to charge him, though, seeing as how he was no longer a whirling tornado of death. Knowing them, they probably had another ambush lined up again for him anyway.

"I can do better," Dragon scoffed, even as they charged at him. They were sure-footed and quick on the forest floor, but that wouldn't save them.

He had the luxury of being able to take one breath and the time to brace himself, soulclaw pointed in front of him and blade behind. Dragon closed his eyes and he speared _forward_.

From his perspective, he took one leap forward from the forest floor, and he connected with something that was no longer forest, and just as fast, leaves crunched under his other boot, and then he stopped. It was blisteringly fast, less than a fraction of a heartbeat, and there wasn't even a moment to think or hesitate. No time to look where he was going, not when he blindly shot forward and any misstep spelled certain death.

He knew what he looked like from the outside, though: a bolt of pure light, faster than lightning and twice as destructive.

When Dragon opened his eyes, he was no longer in the clearing. There were trees right in front of him, no Clawkin in sight. He turned around, and behind him, a trail of half a dozen newly-felled trees crashed down to the forest floor. Their trunks had a Dragon-sized chunk missing, burnt edges still sizzling with light. There was a thunderous sound, wood splintering and branches snapping beneath their weight, and he had just enough time to feel proud of his accomplishment before he doubled over in pain. It was all he could do to grit his teeth and try to push through the phantom sensations still dancing over his nerves, like he was being burned alive.

"That… always takes a lot out of me." Dragon wheezed to the still-standing trees around him. That couldn't have actually knocked out all his foes, right?

He gulped down breath after breath and planted his blade in the ground, using it to anchor himself. His whole body felt like jelly, and not in a tasty way. With the way he was feeling, he probably couldn't swing the huge blade around anyway. The world spun around him and he squeezed his eyes shut for just a second, willing Lore to stay put and for his head to stop pounding.

He opened his eyes again, and thankfully, it was fine. He tightened his grip on his weapon, slowly sweeping the area with his gaze. Although his legs were still shaky, he didn't let up on his vigilance.

Just after the last tree fell to the ground and finally settled down in its new home, three Clawkin appeared from the surrounding forest. One of them was covered in scrapes and spots of blood, another had a nasty cut on its forehead. They still stood upright seemed able to fight, though, and not for the first time, Dragon bemoaned his inability to control his path. What was the point of having a cool attack if he couldn't even aim it?

Between deep, shuddery breaths, he tried to act like he could still fight. He just needed to stall for a few minutes. That would be easy, right?

No one responded to him, not even in the strange, guttural language of the Clawkins. He mentally tried to steady himself.

"I… I call it my soul slice. I'm not really the naming attacks kind of guy, though." Dragon chuckled, and immediately regretted it, because it made him feel like he was falling again. Only the blade anchored into the ground kept him from falling. "You don't make up claw-related names for… for all your attacks, right?"

Only silence met him, the only sound in the forest being his own frantic pulse in his ears.

His entire body still hurt, but it was starting to recede, the phantom pain remembering it wasn't physical injury. All things considered, maybe he could have stuck the landing better.

Distantly, he heard something that might have been a reply.

"Bau ag tu qua?"

"Vaqaja!"

"Goa Vaqaja?"

"Kuv vah Vaqaja!"

"Gu'gah!"

When his vision finally focused again and he caught his breath after a few more moments, he noticed something strange: he wasn't dead. He wasn't horrifically maimed, or impaled on a tree, or ran through by a dozen sharp claws. He was actually completely fine.

Dragon stood upright and pulled his weapon out from the dirt, and looked around.

The Clawkin hadn't disappeared into the trees or anything, and were actually still there. Not preparing for a fight or screaming at him or anything, no. Instead, they were… moving the fallen trees? One of them had the middle of a tree trunk supported on its shoulders, visibly struggling with the immense weight, while the other stood at one end, pushing the tree trunk off to the side. The third Clawkin with the injured leg clambered over the other trees on all fours, searching within the pile by using its claws to prune away branches, before tossing them off to the side. He couldn't tell what the objective was, but it seemed like they'd forgotten about him for the moment.

Dragon hesitated, considering whether or not be should jump back into the fight, when the third Clawkin let out a sharp cry. His attention snapped over to it.

"Ahg Vaqaja!" It motioned downward at the ground, and both the other Clawkin scurried over in an instant. They chittered amongst themselves for a moment, before taking their roles back again, moving the trees once more. There was something coordinated about their movements that wasn’t there before.

Dragon really felt like there was something he was missing, like he should’ve been paying attention to what they were saying in their language. He took his blade in one hand, focusing in on the Clawkin that was holding up a tree trunk.

“Gu'gah!" It called out, and the other Clawkin sped up into a frenzy, shoving trees and branches aside. Even the injured one moved on its bad leg, like it was just ignoring the pain just so it could help move trees.

No, not just moving them. Before his eyes, the fourth Clawkin emerged. It was just a pile of fur streaked with mud and blood at first, before the others collectively worked to lift fallen trees and lift it from the wreckage.

There was a sudden, throaty cry from three mouths at once, an anguished call that wasn’t in any language at all. They didn't even notice him, not even while Dragon crept closer to get a better look, like they'd completely forgotten they were in a fight. Then he saw it, the reason for their upset.

They'd freed the fourth Clawkin—or, more accurately, the _former_ Clawkin. Even from a distance, he could see that it was disarmed.

Literally disarmed, in its case. He could see that one of its arms was completely gone, a gaping bloody wound that the other Clawkin immediately began to fuss over. The other arm was mostly intact, save for its paw, a crushed mess. He thought he could maybe could see fragments of bone through the blood and gore, gleaming in his soulclaw's light. In any case, it wasn't in any shape to fight—not now, and likely not ever again.

"Vaqaja!" One cried out, finally spurring the rest into action.

Another Clawkin opened a small bag, putting leaves into its mouth. It started to chew them vigorously, before spitting them out and smearing a green paste over open wounds like it was a poultice. Dragon felt faintly disgusted, but didn't dwell on it for too long.

The three Clawkin worked as one, supporting their fallen companion and stopping its wounds with leaf poultice and primitive bandages. As they whispered to each other in their language, they embraced their injured number. Together, they made one last mistake: they weren't looking up.

One moment, one of the Clawkin was murmuring in a soft voice, rubbing circles over the other's fur. The next moment, it looked down, a shining cyan blade speared through its chest. The blade withdrew and the Clawkin slumped forward, collapsing onto its horrified companions without a single sound. Dragon looked down at the remaining three, gleeful cruelty and cold light reflected in his red-edged irises.

"Let's get back to the fight, shall we?"

The three let out a single scream that transcended language, before leaping into action once more. Even the armless one screeched, rushing forward to bite him.

Dragon laughed as he blocked and dodged blow after blow, occasionally throwing in some jabs of his own. With a casual, one-handed swing of his blade, he scored a deep cut into the armless Clawkin's face. It barely flinched back on reflex before leaping forward once again. He dodged an airborne lunge from the one with an injured leg, which ran on all fours and could barely use its claws to fight, since it couldn't properly run on two legs.

"Ka'vua!" The armless one shouted, its voice breaking against the harsh syllables.

It rushed forward to headbutt him, a move Dragon easily dodged around. Its companion followed up with a swipe at his ankle, one that stopped in its tracks as Dragon's sword suddenly came between him and the swiping claws.

"Kur Ka'vua!" It cried again, voice hoarse as it came for another round, charging at him again. Dragon spun around and elbowed it in the side in a single smooth movement, knocking it down to the forest floor.

As the disarmed one tried to get to its feet without the help of its arms, the other leapt at him, claws outstretched. While he dodged the clumsy attack, something twinged in his mind.

It came around for another pass, this time with the same throaty yell of "Kur Ka'vua!" as it charged. Dragon batted aside its weak blows, before it rushed back to help its companion to its feet.

The two were slow and weak from their injuries, almost disappointingly weak. It was too easy to avoid their attacks, and he considered ending it right then and there. Two crippled Clawkin were hardly worth his time, not when he could practically ignore their charges. Something rose to the forefront of his mind, though, as he parried a jab from one of his two opponents.

… Where was the third Clawkin?

As if to answer his thought, there was a cry of “Gah kia Ka’vua!” from above and tree branches snapping and creaking. Dragon spun around, and only had time to widen his eyes at the sight in front of him.

The last uninjured Clawkin pouncing down from above, swinging a rusty axe directly at his neck, eyes glinting with smug victory.

There was a sound like ice contracting and creaking, the crackle of permafrost turned instant to drown out a scream, and the axe shattered into pieces of broken metal.

A shield of intertwined red and cyan light flickered out of existence. Completely unharmed, Dragon grinned at the sight around him. Cyan light reflected in his dualtone eyes, he saw that all the Clawkin around him were stunned into silence, his would-be murderer still holding the broken pieces of an axe’s handle. They stood wide eyed and uncomprehending, as if trying to understand what they were looking at.

“Knew I could count on you, Aegis.”

In front of him, there was a jagged chunk of magical ice, suspended in midair. Frozen within it, there was a young man, face twisted in a silent scream of agony and bound in place by red chains that led all the way to Dragon’s own soulclaw. With a flick of his wrist, the ice crackled back out of existence, disappearing in a flash of cyan light.

Before the Clawkin could recover from the shocking sight, a sword separated its head from its body in one clean slash. It toppled over, limp claws finally releasing its broken weapon and head falling to the ground with a meaty thump.

“Kia’vaq!” The two survivors cried out, rushing to their fallen companion’s side.

With casual nonchalance, Dragon shouldered his sword and looked back at the two mourners. They leaned over the body, wailing in their language.

“You know, it was fun while it lasted,” Dragon said. He even meant it. “You were a lot more interesting than your friends.”

He waited a few more moments, but they didn’t react or respond to him. With a shrug and a casual stab of his soulclaw, there was finally only one Clawkin left, the one without arms. It stared up at him listlessly, without its former fire. It didn’t even try to bite him when he took the small satchel from around its waist, only growled quietly at him when he looted its dead companions as well.

Looking at it closer, it was going to bleed out anyway. The leaf poultice had flaked away, leaving blood to ooze all over its already dirty and matted fur.

“Kur’qa Vaqaja,” it whispered softly. “Kur ilv.”

Ignoring the meaningless words, Dragon left it to die. Maybe some other predator in the forest would find an easy meal in it, but he wasn’t going to waste his time with it. For all he cared, it could starve to death without being able to fend for itself. Instead of putting it out of its misery, Dragon slung his sword over his shoulder and let his soulclaw fizzle back out of existence, ready to leave with his ill-gotten spoils.

When the trees cleared into sky and Dragon finally found his way out from the forest, the sun was already setting. It was just about time for him to turn in for the night.

Every single bruise on his body was starting to finally complain, previously ignored and forgotten beneath his armour. Lucky for him, it was only a short walk to get back to the village. He followed a dirt path, unmarked and unmaintained, that wove around the forest in wide twists and turns.

It was a nice night out, and no other squads of Clawkin jumped out to bother him. Maybe they were scared away, or the one that ambushed him was the only one in the area.

Either way, he had a nice and peaceful walk, something he couldn’t complain about.

When he finally got to the village, it was entirely silent. There wasn’t a single lamp or candle lit, each and every home dark and cold. He found his way by the pale light of the moon above, walking through desolate streets. He wandered its twist and turns, passing by streaks of red that spattered streets and buildings, ignoring the broken glass that crunched beneath his feet. The door he finally stopped on was one of the ones flecked with red, covered with flaking handprints the same shade as rust.

Inside, he took only a moment to grab a hunk of cheese and flaky bread, before heading to the bedroom to sit on the bed.

He had four small satchels, each small enough to easily hold in his palm. They were around the size of coin bags, but he could tell just by holding them that they held no such thing. While snacking on his bread, he opened them up to see what he’d earned from another hard day’s work.

The first one contained what was probably supposed to be lunch: pieces of flat, doughy bread topped with seeds and nuts, a few dried mushrooms, some kind of dried jerky, and… what appeared to be dried kidneys. Dragon nibbled on it before deciding it was probably edible, pocketing the satchel again. The kidneys went out the window.

The second one contained different leaves, sorted and tied into bundles by short lengths of twine. He gave one bundle a sniff and then shoved it back into the satchel, the smell making his nose sting. Those were probably the medicinal herbs he saw one of the Clawkin chewing up earlier. Even though he didn’t know what to do with them, he put them away. Never knew if those would come in handy, after all.

Moving on to the third one, it was filled with different berries. They were dried, but still colourful in intermingled red, deep blue, and purple. Dragon reached for one before he realized there was a decent chance they were poisonous, and resolved to feed it to someone else first before eating it himself. Even if they did smell awfully tasty.

The last one, though, was far more interesting than all the others combined. It was filled with embroidered patches and silver badges, which all held one thing in common, the symbol of a silver rose.

Dragon tossed the badges into the air, catching them with one hand as he examined the patches. While chewing the last of his bread, Dragon considered them.

The patches were leather, embroidered silver petals edged by deep blue borders. They looked like they were cut from pieces of a larger whole, but they were unmistakable for what they were: the emblem of the Rose.

“Why would Clawkin be carrying these around?” Dragon wondered aloud. The empty village gave him no response.

It seemed the group of Clawkin were even more interesting than he’d first thought. He resolved to think more on this in the morning, when he could do more exploring. The emblems went back into the satchel, which joined its companions on the nightstand. Tomorrow, he would go out again, and find out more. He was planning on exploring anyway, so it wasn’t like he’d have to go out of his way.

After all, he needed to clear out another village for more supplies.


End file.
